


Hollowness Inside Of Your Heart

by DRHPaints



Category: Barry (TV 2018), Bill Hader - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Depression, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Medication, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nightmares, Other, Prison, Prison Sex, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trauma, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28042458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRHPaints/pseuds/DRHPaints
Summary: Caught, Barry goes to prison, awash in hopelessness. After discovering his cellmate Owen is trans and in danger from the other men, Barry offers to protect him, Owen helping Barry with his nightmares and depression, until the two admit their attraction for one another.
Relationships: Barry Berkman/Original Trans Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are curious, the title is from a lyric in the song 'Right Where It Belongs' by Nine Inch Nails which is simply gorgeous. One of my favorites.
> 
> TW/CW: The original character of Owen is assigned female at birth and in reference to his genitalia I use words like 'pussy' and 'clit.' I apologize if these are too dysphoria-inducing for some. If you would like a fic with different terminology, don't hesitate to make a request!

Step. Step. Step. Feet shuffling over concrete in issued shoes. A distant corner of Barry’s brain wondered how many men wore these size fourteens before. How many toes it took to create that odd divot in the upper right corner. How many heels were responsible for the myriad of scuff marks. The lightning storm of cracks over the ancient leather.

But the majority of Barry’s mind held nothing. Well, perhaps that wasn’t quite true. The buzzing. That high, keening noise that he couldn’t seem to rid himself of ever since the day he got caught.

“Berkman, Barry 022150.” Flipping down the sheet on his clipboard, the burly guard offered something approximating a smile and pointed. “Cell 32-A. All yours.”

Barry’s head nodded. He didn’t remember telling it to do that as he lurched his way inside. A petite man with a shaved scalp looked cautiously in Barry’s direction, tattooed arms hugging his knees.

Blinking, Barry didn’t meet his nervous emerald eyes, voice a hoarse whisper. “Top bunk then?”

“I...I can move up there if you want me to...” Deep voice tittering, he studied the dusty floor, avoiding Barry’s hollow stare.

“No, that’s fine.” Barry spoke as if trapped in the moment between sleep and waking. Slow. Far away as he placed the bundle of his meager possessions in the empty cubby before hoisting himself up onto the mattress. 

Curling toward the wall, Barry’s cobalt eyes watched the unforgiving gray stone. Seeing nothing. Absorbing nothing. Barry told himself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale.  _ Life without parole. One day down. Hopefully not many to go… _

***

As was his custom, Owen rose before the guards began first rounds, brushing his teeth and washing his face. Casting an anxious eye over his shoulder, the tall stranger apparently slumbered on and Owen hurriedly changed into a fresh uniform, watching his wide back the entire time for any sign of movement. 

Bell sounding, the morning announcement crackled over the speakers and the bars slid aside. Owen stepped out for the count, glancing back with a frown. Still, the intruder didn’t move.

“Um...hey man.” Owen cleared his throat and the brunette head lifted, continuing to face the wall. “If...if you don’t come stand out here so they can check your name off, you get in trouble, so…”

The head nodded. Tall frame slinking off the top bunk, he looked as though he carried the weight of the world’s sins on his broad, slumped shoulders as he came to stand beside Owen in the entryway.

Twisting his hands, Owen took a deep breath. “I’m Owen, by the way.”

“Barry.” He breathed his way through the two syllables as though he forgot their meaning. Or maybe he merely wanted to, as Barry leaned against the wall, haggard faced and flat.

Owen bobbed his head, waiting patiently, eyes skittering over to Barry’s lackluster presence every few seconds until ‘Bellman, Owen’ echoed from the guard below and he turned inside, cramming his feet in his shoes before rushing down to breakfast.

Barry didn’t follow. Hopping back into bed, he didn’t pull the blanket over himself. Didn’t fold the pillow beneath his joined ear. Barry didn’t deserve these small comforts. He knew that. Knew he damned himself to this place, this cage, this torture. 

Barry didn’t sleep. He wasn’t sure if he did during the night, either. As darkness fell, the blank slate of wall before him turned black. Matched the inside of his eyelids. Barry couldn’t tell what was consciousness anymore. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nothing did.

Scuttling back into the cell, Owen spotted Barry in precisely the same position as before. And when he left for occupational therapy. For lunch. Yard time. The library. Whenever he returned, there was Barry, lying and silent. 

Owen supposed he should consider himself lucky. After Troy. Though Owen wasn’t remotely a religious man, he spent every moment of the last week praying, pleading with any higher power that would listen that he wouldn’t get another cellmate like Troy. 

Of course he knew nothing about this stationary stranger, this Barry. He could be a similar sort of beast. Or worse, if such a thing was possible. But as dinner passed, and then darkness, and still, no twitch, no rise from Barry, Owen’s conscience pulled on the threads of his innards, unraveling his apprehension.

Returning from lunch the next day to find Barry in bed, only seeing him move long enough to use their toilet that morning before lofting himself once more, Owen’s nature got the better of him. Owen rummaged in his cubby, tucking his find in his pockets and beelining to the communal microwave.

“Um...Barry?” Blinking, the voice startled him out of what he thought might’ve been a dream. 

Since it contained nothing but darkness and screaming, Barry couldn’t be sure. “Yeah?”

Barry rolled over to see Owen holding a bowl of steaming ramen noodles surrounded by a shield of napkins. “I, um…” Swallowing, Owen held the food forward. “Here. You…” Owen sighed, shaking his head. “You gotta eat something, man.”

Folding his long legs under himself, all of Barry’s actions seemed to take a long time, as though he were moving through quicksand as his large hands extended forward to accept the offering. “Thank you.”

“I, um…” Owen reached in his pocket. “I didn’t know if you’d want the flavor, so...yeah…” Placing the packet near Barry’s knee, Owen nodded too quickly before hiding himself beneath. 

Barry twirled up a bite, hesitating. He supposed he probably didn’t have the resolve to actually starve himself to death.  _ There are easier ways… _

Noodles hotter than he expected, Barry frantically sucked air into his dangling mouth, waving a hand in front of his face before he acclimated to the temperature. As soon as the third forkful descended, Barry’s body remembered how hungry he was and he ravenously devoured the rest, woeful that dinner wouldn’t come for hours.

Poking his head around, the corner of Owen’s fearful face greeted him. “Thank you.” Barry murmured, holding up the empty bowl. “That was nice of you.”

“No problem.” Owen bobbed his head, hoping he hadn’t invited terror into his life for the second time.

***

Barry went to dinner. Breakfast. Lunch. When the staff psychologist dropped by to collect him, Barry’s ghostly presence followed her to the office, monosyllabic responses muttered until she suggested they ‘give antidepressants a shot.’ 

Barry didn’t want to take them. Didn’t want to risk feeling better while Hell awaited. But, as he stood in the line, tipping the tiny paper cup into his large hand before popping it back, forcing the minuscule white oval high into his gum line for the mouth check, Barry figured there might be a silver lining.

Each night as the prison stuttered into life around him, the shouts, the distant laughter, the muffled moans, Barry’s lengthy fingers would play over the hole in his mattress.  _ Seven.  _ Barry might say. Or.  _ Eleven. Eleven pills. 39 more should be enough. Yeah. Maybe.  _ That ruffled edge of plasticized covering where he slit the hiding place soothed him as Barry touched over the uneven surface again and again. Counting. Waiting.

***

Boredom winning out over his lassitude, Barry decided to take advantage of the library, perusing the stacks until he stumbled across a short story collection by Thomas Wolfe that looked promising. 

Strolling back down the line, Barry rounded the corner into his cell and gasped.

“Shit!” Owen twisted away, hopelessly trying to cover himself with the washcloth as the book hit the ground and Barry turned, covering his eyes. 

“Oh, I’m...I’m sorry, I didn’t…” But it was too late. Arms and legs slathered with a cacophony of tattoos, it wasn’t their artwork that stood out in the naked image of Owen within Barry’s mind, but the absence between his legs. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting…”

Shutting off the sink, Owen’s throat tightened. “Just…” He lowered the washcloth in defeat, staring at the crack in the wall, thinking over how many times he wondered how it came to be. “Just wait until tonight...please.”

Barry’s arm fell, blinking at the bars. “What?”

Voice shrinking to a terrified whisper, Owen could no longer fight the flood brimming his emerald eyes. “Alright, just…” Swallowing, he shook his head in desperation. “Let me get clean first, Okay? Then you can...and I’ll...I’ll be quiet. I won’t call for the guards or anything…”

“Owen...fuck…” Half turning, Barry saw him shrink in his periphery and faced the entrance again. “I don’t...I’m not going to do anything to you, alright? You...you don’t have to worry about anything like that with me.” Barry held his palms up, keeping his tone low. “I would never do that. Okay?”

“R-really?” Owen grabbed his fresh pair of underwear from the top of the desk, afraid to hope.

Nodding, Barry’s mouth settled into a flat line. “Is that...is that why you’re bathing in here? The other guys…”

Pulling on his beige pants, Owen sniffed. “Yeah…”

Hands fisting at his sides, Barry’s sharp jawline flashed in fury as he gritted his teeth. “That’s...fuck, Owen, I’m so sorry.”

Owen smoothed down his shirt. “It’s okay. You can turn around now.”

Barry looked at him in horror. “What? No it’s not. Owen, you...you shouldn’t have to deal with that. Have you talked to anyone about this? The prison, they should--”

Nodding forlornly, Owen rubbed his elbow with the opposite hand. “Yeah, they...they said my only option would be to go to solitary. Permanently.” Two rivulets trickling down his cheeks, Owen blinked. “That they couldn’t afford to have a guard watch me all the time.”

“Fuck.” Barry leaned against the bunk with a sigh. “Well, Owen, that’s…” Tapping the bed frame, Barry gazed off in the distance for a moment, pink lips pursed. “Well, I could, um...help. If you want.” Smearing the moisture from his face, Owen lifted his head. “You know. Go down there with you. Keep an eye out. Make sure…” Barry nodded significantly, sapphire eyes dropping to the floor as he cleared his throat.

Owen tugged on the hemline of his shirt, biting his lip. “You...you would do that for me?”

“Yeah.” Smile spreading over his wide mouth, Barry hitched up a vast shoulder. “No problem. You should be able to take a real shower if you want to.”

Covering his mouth with his hand, Owen shoved down the encroaching sob and nodded, inhaling sharply. “Um, thank...thank you, Barry. That’s, um…” Owen used the corner of his sleeve to wipe his eyes. “That’s very kind. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Barry bobbed his head. Peering around the corner at the large clock in the center of the hall, Barry saw they had 45 minutes left until lunch. “Did you want to go now? Or whenever works for you, it’s--”

“Oh hell yes.” Snapping up his toiletries, Owen’s face radiated an unfathomable joy. “I haven’t had a real shower in...fuck, I don’t even want to admit how long. Seriously, Barry.” Owen reached out as though he wanted to touch his arm and then thought better of it, doubling his grip on his towel. “This means a lot to me. Thank you.” Smiling, Barry clapped Owen on the shoulder and they walked out of the cell. 

Entering the shower block, every hair on Barry’s body stood at attention. As soon as the men caught sight of Owen, sharks sensed blood in the water. Barry had no idea. Aside from pleasantries exchanged for the necessities of sharing a room, he and Owen didn’t interact. Barry ate his meals alone, skirting others as much as possible, and he avoided most group activities. So to see how half a dozen sets of eyes zeroed in on his soft body, the palpable energy shift as Owen hung his shower bag on the hook and stepped behind the curtain, kindled the embers of Barry’s wrath as he parked himself against the wall, powerful arms crossed and cobalt eyes a dare.

Barry heard the rustling of fabric before the knobs creaked and the water sprang to life. Two stalls down, a reedy blond man’s gaze wandered, hand disappearing beneath Barry’s view as he hungrily stared over at Owen.

“Hey.” Barry barked, tipping up his square chin. “Eyes to yourself.”

Turning with a sneer, the blond continued showering and behind him Owen whispered, “Thank you.” Owen scrubbed himself raw as rapidly as possible, jumping into his clothes half dry before tapping Barry’s broad shoulder. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Alright.” Barry nearly placed a large hand at the small of Owen’s back as he led him out, stopping himself and wondering why the urge to guide, to protect was so strong for this fragile man he barely knew as they returned to their cell.

“Fuck.” Running a hand over his scalp, Owen sighed contentedly as he flopped down on his bunk. “That feels great. Thank you, Barry. Damn…” Owen blinked, sitting up. “Maybe I can grow my hair back now.”

Mouth falling open, Barry’s prominent eyebrows knit. “That’s why you shave your head?”

“Yeah, well…” Gesturing to the sink, Owen shrugged. “It was just easier not to have to wash it. And also then Troy couldn’t…” 

Barry bent down. “Who’s Troy?”

Gnawing on his lip, Owen pushed his palms into the mattress, drawing up his knees with a shake of his head. “My old cellmate.”

“Oh.” Countenance darkening, Barry nodded in understanding. “I’m...fuck. Owen, I’m so sorry.”

Owen lifted a shoulder. “It’s not like...not like I didn’t know this would happen. When I got arrested, I mean.” Shifting his weight, Barry sighed and Owen looked at him in trepidation, pulling in his feet. “You can sit down. If you want…”

“Oh...okay.” Curling himself as close to the frame as possible in hopes Owen would feel more comfortable, Barry grinned. “So, um...I don’t know if we’re actually not supposed to ask this or...but...what are you in for?”

Stretching out his lower lip, Owen squeezed one eye halfway shut. “I...I’m not sure you’d  _ love _ hearing about it.”

“Try me.” Tilting his head, Barry settled back and Owen sighed.

“Alright, well...I was living in North Hollywood right? And, um...so you know in the trans community, especially the femmes, well, a lot of folks, they have to…” Owen rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging. “Well, sex work is the only option, you know. So many places won’t hire us or we’re homeless or shitty job histories, whatever. Anyway. So, my friend Jocelyn…” Mouth tightening, Owen’s fingers dragged over his knee. “She was killed. By a trick. And, um...then so was this other woman. Tricia. So I...I asked around. Camped out. Watched the ladies for a few nights. Took notes on the guys coming around.” Ticking his chin to the side, Owen exhaled audibly. “Found him. Killed him.”

Barry met his emerald gaze, a stolid expression unwavering. “Good for you, man.” Nodding slowly, he sighed. “How much time did you get?”

“Well…” Owen held up his hands in defeat. “Turns out he was some city employee bigwig. Rich asshole. Family had a whole fucking team of lawyers once they nabbed me. So…” Rolling his eyes, Owen relaxed into a cross legged position. “Twenty to life.”

“Fuck.” Barry balked, shaking his head. “And they knew? About what he did and everything?”

Raising a shoulder, Owen smirked. “Yeah. Didn’t matter. They weren’t a fan of the whole ‘vigilante justice’ thing. But anyway...how about you?”

“Same.” Barry scratched a stubbled cheek. “Well, I mean...murder. I…” Cutting his eyes away, Barry squirmed, voice lowering. “I was a hitman.”

“Holy shit.” Owen arched an eyebrow, chuckling. “Really?”

Bobbing his head, Barry swallowed hard. “Yeah, it’s...I’m not proud of it…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Barry. I didn’t mean to…” Again his hand jerked in Barry’s direction, but Owen withdrew. “I’m sure that was really difficult.”

“Yeah…” Shelf of his shoulders breaking, Barry’s strong arms held themselves for comfort. “I...well, I was in the Marines and then, um...when I got back, I started doing that. Because...well, it’s a long story, but...I didn’t know what else to do with myself and I was good at it, so…” Barry didn’t know why he was telling Owen these things, didn’t know why the words punched against the backs of his rounded teeth until he released them into the air. And he especially didn’t know why he felt...better. Lighter, after doing so. 

Bell ringing, Barry perked up his ears. Owen looked at him hopefully. “Do you want to go to lunch?”

“Sure.” Barry smiled and they stood, falling in line with the rest of the men down to the cafeteria. 

As they made their selections, Owen admitted it was convenient having someone of Barry’s stature looming. Usually he ate with the pretty boys. They weren’t exactly what one would call close, the majority of the time spent listening to their gossip in silence, but they treated him well and Owen could eat peacefully. 

So to be able to sit with Barry, others casting wary eyes in his direction as they occupied the end of a mostly abandoned table, talking amiably, was a difference Owen didn’t know he needed until it occurred. 

Returning to their cell, Owen forewent his usual daily activities and he and Barry spent the day getting to know one another. Barry learned on the outside Owen worked as an editor for a small online magazine specializing in queer and trans justice issues. 

Owen learned that Barry had perhaps the most contagious giggle on the planet. Left eye winking almost closed, Barry’s high pitched mirth squeaked out of him helplessly as he rocked back and forth, slapping his knee, overbite exaggerated and vast shoulders shaking. Though when Owen truly got him going and Barry snorted, covering his face with a big hand as his body rolled, he couldn’t think of a more endearing sight.

Dinner bell sounding, Barry looked up in confusion. The hours raced by without his knowledge and were somehow...fun. As Barry followed Owen down the staircase, studying the dove tattooed on the back of his neck, wings alight with blue flames, he couldn’t remember the last time he stumbled across a day he didn’t want to shove back down fate’s throat with a punch and a scream. Odd, Barry thought, that the first one in ages should occur here, in this cage.

“Oh hey, Rita.” Owen smiled up at a tall prisoner, longish tresses tucked under their hairnet and, if Barry wasn’t mistaken, sporting a touch of eyeliner. “How are you doing today?”

Beaming, Rita rifled under the counter. “I can’t complain, baby. How are you?” Rita emerged with two chocolate pudding cups, passing them to Owen with a wink.

“Aw, a whole lot better now. Thank you, gorgeous.”

Glancing over, Barry saw they were holding up the line, the others growing surly, but Owen gave Rita’s hand a brief squeeze and they moved along. Barry took the spot across from Owen at the table, gesturing back toward the lunch line. “Friend of yours?”

“Oh yeah.” Owen smiled, dipping into a mush apparently intended to be goulash. “That’s Rita. She’s just starting out. You know,” Pointing with his plastic fork, Owen tilted his head. “Transitioning. She’s having trouble getting the psychs to believe she’s legit. They think it’s an act so she can transfer to the women’s prison.”

Eyebrows furrowing incredulously, Barry’s mouth fell open. “What? Who would do that? It’d be fucking dangerous if you didn’t actually--”

“Exactly.” Owen nodded, nose flaring. “But, they just don’t get it. She’s so sweet, though. Unfortunately, well, fortunately for her I guess, she’s over in Block D, only doing an 18 month stretch, so we don’t get to see each other much, but…” Shrugging, Owen sighed. “It’s nice to have someone around who gets it, anyway.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Barry grinned. “I’m glad you two have each other. Well…” Eyeing the drab walls, Barry raised his dark brows. “I wish your circumstances were different, but…”

Half chucking, Owen nodded. “Don’t we all? Here,” Owen passed one of the pudding cups to Barry. “You like chocolate, right?”

“Oh.” It was just a damn pudding cup. Barry knew that. Probably worth fifty cents at the most on the outside. But Barry stared at it for a full minute, tension building beneath his crisp jaw until his voice came out a strangled whisper. “That’s...you don’t have to do that…”

Owen peeled back the lid of his own, licking the residue before setting it on the corner of his tray. “It’s no problem. Enjoy.”

Barry positioned the pudding above his glass, purposefully finishing his lunch (well, as much of it as he could stomach) first before he opened it, taking measured, luxurious bites, allowing the unctuous flavor to pass delectably over his tongue. Always possessing a bit of a sweet tooth, Barry hadn’t indulged in weeks, even before the arrest, and in that time he lost interest in food altogether. Most morsels simply held no taste to him anymore. Back at home, Barry got to the point where he doused half of what he ate in sriracha and tabasco, hoping the sting, the burn, would make up for the fact that he no longer wanted to sustain the body he carried.

Tossing aside his self restraint, Barry slathered his long tongue around the interior of the plastic container, slurping up every last dollop. Owen tried to look away, tried not to focus on the enticing way Barry licked, his eyes closed in reverie. Tried to push the tiny, delighted hums Barry muttered as he swallowed out of his consciousness. But it proved impossible as Owen cleared his throat, wiping his face with a napkin and resolutely ignoring the tingling between his thighs.

“Alright, um...should we head back?” Owen suggested.

Packing up his tray, Barry nodded. “Sure.” 

Reading quietly for the rest of the evening, when lights out came, Barry’s fingers wandered once again to the little pocket in his mattress.  _ 13\. 13 pills. 37 to go.  _ But the thought didn’t stroll past with its usual ease. Instead it kicked a wave of acrid guilt into the pit of Barry’s stomach.  _ You’re really going to put Owen through that? Finding you one morning… And what happens to him when you’re gone? What if his next cell mate is just as bad as the last guy?  _

Barry retracted his hand, swallowing. As he tucked the blanket higher over his vast shoulders, his mind swirled, unsure how this fresh wrinkle would affect his plan.


	2. 2

Over the next week Barry began to sink into the drudgery of prison life. Wake. Eat. Yard time. Sleep. Barry chaperoned Owen to the showers either before or after taking his own. Thankfully no one thought it worth challenging him to take their shot at Owen, at least not yet, though Barry redirected more than a few peeping toms. 

Owen convinced Barry to come along to occupational therapy. The counselor encouraged him to try it and Barry dismissed the idea out of hand, but when Owen explained that it was simply arts and crafts time, Barry’s reluctance wavered. 

Finding himself looking blankly down at a sheet of paper with a box of colored pencils beside him, Barry frowned and leaned into Owen. “I...I can’t draw, man.”

“Oh are your hands broken?” Owen didn’t glance up from his pencil sketch, the outline of what Barry assumed would soon be a man’s face.

Pulling his head back, Barry blinked. “No, but--”

“Then you can draw.” Owen stated simply, etching out the beginnings of a nose. “You might not be able to do it particularly well, but who cares?” Frowning, Owen erased a line, only to replace it with one Barry thought to be in the exact same position, maybe a little to the left. “Creativity isn’t about being the best, or being productive, Barry. Do it because you want to. Because it helps.” Green eyes rising, Owen flashed a warm smile. “Make something that wasn’t there before. Who gives a fuck how it turns out? You don’t need to tell anyone that’s not what you were going for.” Sticking out his lower lip, Owen returned his attention to the page. “Just draw whatever comes to mind and pretend that’s what you meant to do all along. That’s what I do.”

“Huh…” Hesitantly selecting the black pencil, Barry paused an inch away from the surface. “Alright…” Barry’s sizable hand moved like an alcoholic dancing at a wedding. At first, sober and overly aware of his process, Barry made a line. A dot. Froze. Frowned. Then, tipsiness setting in, he began to stumble over the page, dashing here, scribbling there. 

Fully intoxicated by the muse, Barry hunched over the table, eyes somehow seeing everything in front of him and nothing as his fingers scrabbled for a red pencil, arm scrubbing over the surface in a frenzy until, sitting back, with a sober blink, Barry stared down at his work.

A face looked back at him. Well, perhaps calling it a face was being generous. Monstrously deformed, gaping eye sockets rimmed in red hovered above a mouth twisted into a scream, lines heavy and dark and angry as the image spiraled without boundary to the edges of the page.

“Whoa…” Owen peered over. “Can I see that?”

Biting his lip, Barry nudged it toward him. “Sure, I guess…”

Eyes narrowed and face thoughtful, Owen pondered for what felt like an eon to Barry before he returned the artwork. “I love that.” Owen tapped the edge, mouth firm. “Visceral. It makes me feel…” Tilting his head down, Owen’s brows knit. “Seen. No. More than that. Exposed. Nice work, Barry.”

“Oh, it’s...thanks, but it’s not very good…”

“Can I give you a bit of advice, Barry? From someone who’s been doing this for a while?” Barry’s dark blue eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of Owen’s sketch, now bearing a striking resemblance to their elderly instructor, even managing to capture the tiredness around his paunchy mouth. 

“Whoa, that’s really good...yeah, sure.” Nodding, Barry leaned in to get a closer look as Owen worked on shading.

Switching to the right cheekbone, Owen shook his head without looking up. “Don’t ever apologize for your work. Let it stand on its own merit. Don’t try to sway them with self-deprecation or downplay what you’ve done. Just say ‘here, I made this’ and step away to let people come to their own conclusions. And I say…” Face popping up, Owen grinned, knocking Barry’s drawing with the back of his pencil. “This is good and I love it. So there.”

Folding his pink lips under to hide his smile, Barry bobbed his head. Eyes shifting, Barry hoped the flush creeping up his pallid skin wasn’t too obvious. “Okay. Thank you.”

The instructor clapped his wisened hands and Owen and Barry put away their materials, Barry holding the drawing against his little belly on the return trip to their cell, fearful of the other prisoners seeing. 

Barry lifted a book from his cubby, starting to fold the page when Owen took his carved forearm. “Wait,” Seeing his own hand, Owen withdrew with darting eyes. “Don’t...don’t bend it. You can hang it up, if you want.”

“Oh.” Examining their wall, partially decorated with a smattering of magazine cut outs, mostly depicting the night sky, Barry nodded. “Okay. Thank you.” Owen retrieved his tape roll and passed it to him, but Barry stilled before the bare patch of concrete. “You’re sure? It’s not too…” Barry scanned the face, frowning. “Scary or messed up or whatever? You’re okay looking at this every day?”

Owen’s expression softened into an understanding smile. “Yeah. I want to.” Quiet for a moment as Barry applied the adhesive to the back, Owen swallowed. “It makes me feel less alone.”

Flattening the picture, Barry locked into his viridescent gaze. “Thank you. Though…” Barry looked to the drawing with a heavy sigh. “I wish you couldn’t relate to it, of course.”

Owen nodded quietly, picking up his book and disappearing into his bunk. There was a space between them the rest of that day. Conversations ebbing to nothingness. Jokes falling flat. Barry didn’t understand why, probed out into the emptiness, hoping Owen would meet him. But the smaller tattooed man shied away, polite and genial, but eyes overcast and voice a shadow as the sun set on yet another evening inside.

Rolling over again, Owen fluffed the pillow under his head, heels kicking at the blanket until he freed his toes to the cool room. After a couple of weeks together, ignoring Barry became impossible. Sweet, funny, and incredibly generous in offering his protection, Owen couldn’t help but yearn for the tall, solemn man who laid above, still and breathing deep as per usual, apparently unbothered by the restlessness that prodded Owen’s loins. It didn’t help that they were always together, Owen finding a mere two instances since Barry’s arrival when he could touch himself while Barry was away at therapy, brain denying the fact that he imagined those rough cheeks between his thighs.

“No…” Muffled voice calling into the darkness above him, Owen leaned out of his bunk. “ _ No! Stop! Please!” _ Owen stood and saw Barry thrashing below his blanket in the blue moonlight, face aggrieved and voice a panic. “ _ Don’t! No!” _

“Barry…” Leaning in, Owen immediately swerved back when one of Barry’s fists struck out. “Barry!” Barry continued to writhe, whimpering in agony. Reticent to touch him in his distress, Owen knocked on the bed frame. “Barry, wake up! You’re having a nightmare!  _ Barry!” _

Gasping, Barry shot up, eyes black and wild in the dimness as he shuffled away from the outline standing beside his head. “Barry?” Speaking softly, Owen placed a hand a few inches from Barry’s trembling knee. “Are you alright?”

Barry couldn’t get enough air. Couldn’t get away. Couldn’t get the torturous images out of his mind as his eyes brimmed and he shook his head. Covering his face in both hands, a sob choked out of him. Folding forward, Barry shook, wishing, praying he could do something, anything to lay the ghosts of his conscience to rest.

“Okay...okay…” Owen cooed, rubbing Barry’s expansive shoulder. “It’s alright. It was just a nightmare. Just breathe, okay? Breathe, Barry.”

“I...I…” Barry tried to swallow but his throat muscles didn’t seem to be following his commands. “I...can’t.”

Dashing around to lift himself up next to Barry, Owen placed a hand on the small of his wide back. “Okay, Barry? Sit up, alright. Look at me.” Frenzied eyes sought his face, ping ponging away with every second and Owen touched his palm lightly to Barry’s solar plexus. “Alright, Barry? Breathe into my hand, okay? Right here.” 

Shaking his head feverishly, Barry flicked out his wrists, rocking. “I...just…”

“Barry.” Emerald eyes piercing, Owen cupped Barry’s sculpted jaw, deep voice an anchor within the hurricane. “Look at me. Yes you can. Alright? Now inhale…” Owen demonstrated, taking a slow, long breath. Barry attempted, but his lungs hitched, fresh tears flooding his pale cheeks. “Okay, again. In…” Increasing the pressure above Barry’s belly to remind him, Owen’s soothing tone continued. “And out…”

After a few repetitions, Barry, shivering and drained, swiped the moisture from his cheeks. Owen combed his fingers through Barry’s chestnut waves before pulling back with a pang of guilt. “How are you feeling, Barry?”

“Better.” Barry murmured, timidly placing a hand over Owen’s. “Thanks.”

Owen wanted to squeeze it, to interlace their fingers, but he restrained himself, allowing Barry’s large palm to rest above his own. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Head ticking from side to side, Barry swallowed. “No, I just...want to forget.” 

“Okay.” Patting Barry’s knee, Owen shifted away. “Well...I hope you’re able to get back to bed soon.”

Barry’s lengthy fingers closed around his hand. “Hey Owen, um…” Eyes on the sheet between them, Barry sniffed. “Could you...stay? I…” Looking straight up, Barry took a wavering breath. “I’m afraid to go back to sleep.”

“Oh…” Grateful the darkness masked his pink cheeks, Owen nodded. “Sure...you...just wanna chat for a bit or something?”

Squirming, Barry withdrew his arm, hugging himself. “I, um…” Barry tapped his forearm, nose flaring. “I...feel bad asking, but if...if you were okay with...just staying here until I...fall asleep, that…” Nodding, Barry cut his eyes away, voice impossibly small. “That would mean a lot to me.”

Owen fidgeted. “Yeah...yeah I can do that, but, um…” Eyeing the concrete floor, he made a face. “Would you be alright going down to my bunk? I...well, I think I might tumble out otherwise. If...if I accidentally fell asleep or something.”

“Yeah, okay…” Slipping off with his pillow, Barry stood sheepishly while Owen climbed down, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Barry looked at the narrow bunk, throat stinging as he avoided Owen’s gaze. “Can I be on the inside then?”

“Sure.” Owen nodded, waiting for Barry to crawl in before he apprehensively followed, balancing himself on the utmost edge of the mattress and nervous as Barry’s large frame curled up against the wall. 

Reflexively Barry sought the pill stash, only to discover a sewn, complete mattress beneath his finger tips. Solid chest twingeing, Barry blinked, eyes damp. “Hey, um, Owen…” Barry turned his face half into the pillow, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m sorry, but could you...would you hold me? Maybe?”

That high, wet note of need yanked at Owen’s soul as he observed Barry’s weeping form. “Sure.” Owen whispered, tucking himself along the back of his long frame. “No problem.”

Arm folded at Barry’s side, he silently reached back to take Owen’s hand, clutching his fingers almost too tight as he brought them to his heart. Owen trickled over Barry’s scalp, doing what he could to encourage Barry’s woe ravaged body to sync to his breathing until he felt the beautiful, plagued man melt beneath him. As Barry drifted, throat raw and nestling into Owen’s warmth, the last thing he heard before sleep claimed him was Owen, a whisper of solace in a forest of madness. “ _ I’m right here, Barry. I’m right here…” _

***

“Mmm...fuck, tell me I don’t have to go in today…” Owen’s muffled voice startled him. Barry’s gummy eyes blinked themselves awake as Owen hugged him tighter. “Mmm…” A soft cheek nuzzled sleepily against the back of Barry’s neck and as Owen’s hand flowed down his little belly, he froze. “Just wanna stay in bed all day…” Fingers brushing over his morning erection, Barry’s nose flared and Owen chuckled behind him. “Mmm...fuck, Ben. Call in sick for me, baby…”

Owen gave him a generous stroke and Barry grabbed his wrist, voice squeaking out high and unusual. “Um...Owen?”

“Fuck!” Yelping, Owen sprang away, inadvertently throwing himself out of the bunk and landing hard on his elbow with a hiss. “Ah fuck! Damn it!” 

Barry sat up, adjusting his shirt over himself and pulling up a knee to hide his now overly excited cock. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” Bleary eyed and massaging what was certain to be a spectacular bruise, Owen came to his knees. “I’m fine. Fuck…” Hand to his brow, he sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry, Barry. I thought...I was dreaming I was home with my husband. Fuck, I…” Palms aloft, he rested back on his heels. “I would never touch you without asking. I’m so sorry, man.”

Face hot, Barry shook his head. “It’s okay…” Owen rose, dusting off his knees and making a point to sit as far away from Barry on the bed as possible. “So...you’re married then?”

“Yeah. Well…” Owen clarified, rolling his eyes. “I was. When he found out what I did…” Eyes falling, Owen clenched his teeth. “Well...I got the divorce papers after my first two weeks inside, so…”

“Oh…” Barry wanted to reach out to him, but in his current state it didn’t strike him as the wisest choice. “That’s...he didn’t understand why?”

Teetering his head, Owen shrugged. “He did. I think it was more about that I didn’t tell him. And, well…” Owen pushed back his sleep mussed hair, meeting Barry’s deep blue eyes. “I don’t think he thought I was...capable. Of that. He was scared of me.”

“Yeah…” Nodding forlornly, Barry sighed, thinking of Sally, Cousineau, the empty courtroom at his trial. “Yeah, I...know what you mean.”

Quiet falling, after a couple of minutes Barry resigned himself to the fact that his erection was going nowhere. At least while stuck feet away from Owen. “Okay, I’ll, um…” Clearing his throat, Barry stood, shielding himself as best he could. “I’ll be back…”

Awkwardly hunching his way to the shower block, Barry crept into one of the bathroom stalls, lowering his pants in frustration. Closing his eyes and taking hold of his stiff cock, at first Barry tried to think of something, anything, other than Owen. 

Sally? Nope, too painful. The last time he watched porn? Barry pulled himself for a couple of minutes, but the memory didn’t seem to be getting him anywhere and he wasn’t particularly inclined to take his time, considering the surroundings. 

The sensation of Owen’s fingertips whispering over the thin fabric which covered his pleading cock came back, eliciting a tug of need in Barry’s gut he couldn’t ignore. Spitting into his palm, Barry gave in, yanking hard and fast as he pictured Owen’s hands, his mouth, guilt stopping him there, though his mind teased Barry from a far off corner about how badly he wanted to plunge himself between Owen’s legs.

Hastily unrolling a wad of toilet paper, Barry’s warm cum saturated as he clenched his teeth, muscle in his crisp jaw popping with the effort of staying silent as his toes curled in his boots.

Barry washed his hands and returned to their cell, red faced and convinced if he looked Owen in the eye he would know, just  _ know _ every illicit thought that passed through him before the morning announcement echoed overhead and they lined up for the count.

The two of them were unnaturally formal with one another throughout the day. Though their friendly banter continued, there was an element of force, as though neither was quite sure what might happen were they to stop talking.

Throughout occupational therapy Owen was unreasonably distracted by Barry’s sizable hands as they mashed and rolled a lump of clay, molding the gray blob over and over into nothing, his dexterous fingers sliding enchantingly over the smooth surface. 

“What are you drawing today?” Barry glanced up with a smile, and Owen looked down at his paper to realize his pencil tip gouged a stuttered series of holes through the page, only to trail aimlessly off over the desk with a graphite gash.

“Oh, um…” Crumpling the evidence of his leering, Owen selected a fresh sheet. “Not sure yet, I guess…” But as his eyes wandered again, Owen knew what he wanted to draw. Those expressive, dark eyebrows. The prominent cheekbones. The sharp jawline. Every pinprick of stubble. Owen ached to summon even a sliver of Barry’s gorgeous face into existence with his itchy fingers. But he wasn’t sure how one went about naturally asking, “ _ Hey...can I stare at you for about an hour while I try my best to capture just how fucking pretty you are?” _

After dinner Barry hopped in bed to read, but after an hour, two, he covered a single chapter and if he was honest with himself, didn’t comprehend a word. Lights out arrived and Barry peeked his head over the side of the bunk. “Night, Owen.”

“Goodnight, Barry.” 

Shrugging down under the meager blanket, Barry stared at the wall, tracing the pill stash. He almost didn’t add today’s dose. Almost threw it away. But the siren’s song of oblivion proved irresistible, and so, another partially masticated individual joined the crew. 

Before, when Barry thought about his end, scenarios containing what those who knew him might say flitted by, their solemn words, wondering if any would miss him. Now, Barry recognized that when his time came, by his own hand or another, it would be within these dank walls. No funeral. No mourners. An unmarked grave in Potter's field. Soon to be overgrown. Forgotten. Lost.

“Hey Owen?” Speaking into the darkness before his solid chest could attack, fingers rattling incessantly, Barry swallowed hard. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” A tiny voice floated upward. “Everything okay?”

When Barry spoke again Owen thought he might be holding his face into the pillow, his words difficult to discern. “Can I...can I sleep with you again? It’s...I’m…” Bed springs wheezing. A sniff. “I’m not okay.”

Owen stood, touching a hand to Barry’s broad shoulder. “Yeah. Come on.” 

Nodding feebly, Barry slithered off with his pillow and folded himself onto the bottom bunk, Owen’s weight shifting the mattress behind him. “Can you hold me again?” Barry whispered. “Only if you want to…”

“I do…” Molding against his large frame, Owen inhaled the scent at the nape of Barry’s neck. Somehow, even though they all used the same prison-issued products, Barry’s pale skin, his night black locks, held notes of something different, alluring, as Owen looped him near.

Owen’s nose tickled his hairline as Barry took his hand, notching between his pecs. Barry ignored his twitching cock. Drew his knees up a tad further. Shut his eyes. Tried to breathe. To relax. To sleep.

But the way Owen’s chest pushed into his back with every inhalation, only to withdraw as a light breeze fluttered the dark tendrils of Barry’s hair, in and out, in and out, rowed Barry to a fervor. 

“Owen…” Barry polished his fingers with his thumb, blinking in the dimness. “Sometimes I wish we weren’t cell mates.”

Owen’s head left the pillow in alarm, hand disappearing. “What? Barry, I thought…” Frowning, Owen shuffled away. “I thought we got along…That’s--”

“No, I mean…” Folding his pink lips under, Barry scooted closer to the wall. “Because I...I want to say something. But I...after I don’t want you to be uncomfortable and stuck living with me...”

Studying his wide, still back, Owen blinked, voice a whisper of trepidation. “What do you want to say, Barry?”

Barry bent his elbows, legs so high the fold of his body impeded his breathing, speech barely audible. “I...I want you to touch me.” Tucking his face into the pillow, Barry exhaled tremulously. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t...I know I shouldn’t ask you for that. Especially with…” Barry shook his head in the fabric. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

Owen’s warmth returned, nestling against him. A kiss dotted Barry’s neck. Another, as Owen flowed down his arm, squeezing Barry before his hand moved over the pudge of his belly. 

“Owen…” Taking his wrist, Barry shook his head, “You don’t...I won’t hurt you or anything if you don’t do this. Please, I…” Barry clenched his eyes, nose flaring. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve said that.”

“I want to...” Lowering Barry’s collar to reveal more of his delectable flesh, Owen’s lips moved over him greedily as he cricketed his legs to appease the pulsing between his thighs. “Fuck, Barry, I want you so badly…” 

Owen palmed his burgeoning erection over his pants and Barry rolled into his touch with a pitchy sigh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Fingers restless and mouth a beggar, Owen lifted the hemline of Barry’s shirt, sliding urgently beneath the waistband of his boxers to grasp Barry’s thick cock as he kissed along his sharp jawline, guiding him back against his chest. Barry thrust into the tight circle of Owen’s palm, breath hasty as his arm scrambled back, kneading his ass as he sought the relief of Owen’s lips.

Flipping over in a rush, Barry took Owen’s face in both hands, latching on and moaning into his mouth once he renewed the intoxicating tug on his imploring cock. “Fuck, Owen, I...I…” Foreheads rubbing and body undulating, Barry fought to find the words. “You feel so good. Do you want me to touch you?”

“Fuck...please…” Owen tossed a leg over Barry’s waist, yanking him furiously, the separation of their mouths abhorrent as he tried to speak. “Barry. Yes.”

Fingers fumbling with Owen’s waistband, Barry emitted a soft mewl as he juiced the head of his cock and the shield of his shoulders collapsed at the heightened sensation. “Do you...are you okay with...tell me how you want me to touch you.”

“Anything.” Owen gasped, nodding eagerly. “Just please...now.” 

Barry dipped between the lips of his pussy, groaning when he discovered Owen’s wetness, clit hard as he rutted into his fiddling fingers. “ _ Oh Barry...fuck! Yes!”  _ Shoving his pelvis forward so hard he nearly toppled Owen from the bed, Barry dragged them both back toward the wall with an impatient grunt, hand cramming in between Owen’s legs and racing wildly as they panted into each other’s open mouths.

“Fuck, Barry, would you…” Swallowing, Owen tried to steady himself, enthralled by Barry’s touch, the passage of his gritty chin, the sounds falling from his parted pink lips. “Would you fuck me? Please?”

“Oh fuck…” Face scrunching with agitated ardor, Barry nodded exuberantly, “Yeah. Yes, please…”

Taking a cursory glance toward the bars, Owen shrugged out of his pants and briefs, hiding them under the bunk before he shuffled beneath Barry. Massive cock striking inside of him with a mutual gasp, Barry didn’t build tension, didn’t bother gliding their bodies together with the goal of coaxing the spirit of ecstasy. 

No. Barry jammed an arm between them, fingers frantic over Owen’s swollen clit as he pounded inside as though the electric chair waited for him in the morning. “Fuck, Owen, I…” Foreheads balanced and mouths mashing, Barry took half a breath as the clutch of Owen’s hot pussy hypnotized him. “I’ll just pull out, okay?  _ Fuck…fuck! _ ” 

A high, keening note breaching his lips as he slammed his pelvis upward, Owen shook his head. “I’m fixed. It’s fine. Cum in me.” Looping his arms around Barry, Owen clung desperately as Barry hammered into him with a ferocity that caused the bed frame to scrape warningly along the concrete. Awash in euphoria, neither gave a damn if they got caught as Owen smothered a shriek in Barry’s broad shoulder, thighs squeezing his barreling hips as his pussy contracted. 

“ _ Oh fuck! Fuck! Yes!”  _ Increased pressure making him reckless, Barry’s hands snatched at the bedposts and he hurled himself forward, whimpers of the condemned dribbling from his pink lips. “ _ Owen! Fuck! Fuck! I’m close! Fuck! Yes!” _

Owen humped with a crazed velocity, bunching up Barry’s shirt, his skin beneath his fingers a necessity in those final moments as he hopelessly tried to join their lips. “ _ Yes! Barry! Fuck me! Yes!” _

Owen squeezed around him again and Barry undulated violently, cum exploding inside his drenched pussy with whine after whine as he scooped him close, spine arching as his throbbing cock sought the apex of Owen’s depths. 

“ _ Fuck! Fuck _ …” Left eye twitching irrepressibly as he shuddered, Barry fell limp, heaving and sweating as zaps of pleasure continued to alight over his damp skin.

Pulsing continually around Barry’s sensitive cock, Owen smoothed a hand through the slick dark waves of his hair, pressing an uncoordinated kiss to the joint of his sturdy jaw. “Fuck, Barry...that was…”

“Yeah…” Barry gulped, trying, and failing, to raise his head. “Damn…” 

Growing conscious of how heavy he must be, Barry snuck his arms beneath Owen, adjusting them on the tiny bunk until he was on his back and Own splayed over him, remaining inside as he softened, reluctant to leave the comforting warmth as Owen nestled against his firm chest. 

Barry petted a hand over Owen’s sandpaper scalp, planting a kiss to his forehead. “So that was okay? I mean…” Tilting his square chin down, Barry studied his green eyes in the shadows. “You want this?”

“Yeah.” Owen smiled, finger inching down Barry’s collar to tickle through his fluffy chest hair. “I do.”

With a contented sigh, Barry’s strong arms embraced Owen, snuggling. Owen felt Barry’s grip loosening, his breath slowing, and he kissed his cheek. “Alright...sorry. But I need to put my pants back on. Just in case the guards come around. You know…”

“Right.” Barry patted his ass before Owen stood and dressed himself. As he rejoined him in bed, Barry bit his lip. “Um...would you still be okay holding me when we sleep? I...I really like it that way.”

“Of course.” Facing the wall, Owen spooned Barry, a hand sneaking down to squeeze his tiny ass. “I like it this way, too…”

Giggling, Barry craned back to give him a brief peck, scooting into Owen’s body and, for the first time since he didn’t know when, unable to stop smiling.


	3. 3

Owen supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that they slept until the bell, what with their late night activities, but as he woke to find Barry’s puffy eyes, his crooked grin, he didn’t want to get out of bed, no matter how many shots he might incur.

“Morning.” Flipping over, Barry’s big hand graced Owen’s waist, dipping in for a languid kiss. 

Tongues lacing together, Owen’s knee found its way atop Barry’s hip, his waking erection persistently bumping between his legs. “Apparently.” Owen chuckled, brushing back Barry’s askew chestnut tendrils.

With a giggle Barry folded his pink lips away, certain that was the only solution for keeping them from Owen’s mouth as his deep blue eyes darted longingly over his face. “Alright, well...better get out there…”

“Yeah…” Owen patted Barry’s scratchy cheek with a sigh, rising. Hands crossed in front of himself, as Barry stood outside of the open bars, he and Owen couldn’t help looking at one another, smirks chasing off one face and onto the other as they waited for the guard to circle around.

Names and numbers called, they scurried back to bed, eyeing the open entryway nervously, hands roaming as their mouths fused together. Trying to keep the small blanket covering, Owen inched Barry’s pants and briefs down his muscular thighs, green eyes hungry as he broke from his lips.

“I really want to suck you, Barry.”

Shiver sparking over his pasty skin, Barry nodded feverishly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” With a hasty glance over his shoulder, Owen ducked under the blanket, scrunching Barry’s shirt up under his armpits to greedily absorb the terrain of his solid chest, his little belly as he descended. 

Hot circle of Owen’s lips encasing the wide head of his cock with an intense slurp, Barry smacked a hand over his mouth to stifle the moan, eyes cutting to the hall as he inadvertently thrust his hips up. “Sorry…” Barry muttered, gasping as he settled into the bunk and reached down to pet Owen’s bald head. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine.” Owen popped off, jerking him as he whispered from beneath the blanket. “Just go for it. I can take it.”

“You’re sure?” Lifting the edge, Barry peered down at him, and immediately regretted it because the sight of Owen’s hand wrapped around his cock made him wish he could watch,

Nodding, Owen offered him a teasing lick. “Yeah. I like it that way.” Eyebrows dancing, he kisses the head with a wink. “Fuck my face, Barry. We should hurry, anyway.”

“Okay.” Barry nodded, peeking at the entryway again before lowering the blanket. “Okay. Yeah…”

Lips working down the length of his shaft, Owen bobbed, fondling Barry’s balls as he hummed around his sensitive flesh. Barry nodded eagerly to no one, biting his lips to contain his euphoria as his huge hands closed over Owen’s scalp and his pelvis drove forward. 

“Oh fuck…” Barry murmured, delirious with the slippery heat of Owen’s throat as he planted his heels in the mattress, fingers digging and hips slamming as his breath came fast and shallow. “ _ Fuck, Owen! Yes! Don’t stop! Fuck! _ ”

Saliva pooling around the root of his massive cock, Owen inhaled Barry vigorously, forewarnings salty over his tongue as he hollowed his cheeks. A fluttering whimper left Barry as Owen pressed his tongue firmly to the underside of his shaft and he couldn't hold back any longer, shoving a hand between his thighs and thrumming his dewy clit with breakneck speed as he moaned around Barry’s paper-thin skin.

“ _ Fuck! Fuck, Owen! You’re gonna...I’m gonna cum! _ ” Feet kicking and eyes clenching, Barry hurriedly tapped Owen’s shoulder before fisting his hands at his sides. Owen buried him, undulating the muscles of his throat with mesmerizing rapidity until he elicited a high, vulnerable whine from Barry’s writhing form. “ _ Yeah! Yeah, fuck! Fuck!” _

Hot cum spurting, Barry quaked as his left eye twitched, fingers muffling a groan that could’ve been mistaken for pain as it escaped his pink lips while Owen gladly swallowed.

Lifting Barry’s pants as he emerged, Owen smiled and kissed his panting cheek. “Mmm…” Owen chuckled, patting Barry’s belly paunch. “Best way to start the day.”

“Fuck…” Barry ran a hand down his face, leaving a grin behind. “You got that right.” 

Linking their lips, Barry’s fingers snuck toward Owen’s waistband, but he stopped him. “I’m good.” Owen brushed back Barry’s dark tresses. “Let’s go to breakfast before they run out of everything good.”

“But…” Barry looked between his legs with a frown. “I don’t want to leave you hanging…”

Shaking his head, Owen stood. “Oh, I got off while I was down there. It’s fine.”

A tiny amused smile blossomed on Barry’s face as he got up to put on his shoes. “Yeah? That’s…” Bending down to tie the laces, Barry’s sapphire eyes sparkled. “That’s pretty sexy, Owen.”

“Couldn’t help it.” Owen leaned down, planting a kiss to Barry’s forehead. “You make the prettiest fucking noises.”

Lifting a sheepish shoulder, Barry’s pink cheeks came along to the cafeteria and when they claimed their seats, Barry soon accepted his own ridiculousness. Reaching out to pluck at Owen’s shirt. Poke him until he laughed. Playing footsie under the table. But Barry tossed away the idea that he should hold back, restrain his glee. Owen seemed equally interested, his emerald eyes glued to him and a smile waiting whenever Barry looked up from his oatmeal. Barry forgot how good it felt. Flirting. The excitement of getting to know someone knew. The thrill of skin brushed and words whispered. Barry forgot how good it felt to have someone care. 

Parting after they dumped their trays, Barry flexed every modicum of self restraint not to haul Owen into a farewell kiss, settling for a squeeze of the arm and a grin as he strolled his way to the med line. 

Minuscule paper cup tapping into his hand, Barry tossed the pill back, instinctively thrusting it under his lip. But as he accepted the dixie cup of water, Barry hesitated. Retrieving the antidepressant, he allowed it to land on his tongue, water washing down his throat before he thanked the nurse. Fingers tapping restlessly as he sauntered back to the cell, Barry wasn’t certain he made the right choice.  _ But one dose won’t make a difference… _

Owen perked up as Barry entered. “Hey.” Setting his book aside, he smoothed a hand over his head. “Mind coming with me for a shower?”

“Not at all.” Barry wiggled his dark eyebrows suggestively and Owen laughed, rising to retrieve his toiletries. 

Pinching Owen’s ass and provoking a squeal, Barry bent down to kiss the back of his neck. “Wish I could jump in there with you. But somehow I think fighting someone naked and wet might not be very effective if it came to that.”

“Ughhh…” Owen turned around, lids fluttering. “I’m sorry...that’s so fucking hot.”

Eyes closed, Barry giggled and shook his head, Owen leading the way to the shower block. As per usual Barry kept watch, soft sounds of Owen sudsing behind him tantalizing, but determined to maintain his outlook for predators. 

That is, until Owen splashed him. “Hey!” Barry turned around incredulously, laughing. Owen merely smirked over his shoulder, green gaze a taunt as he stood beneath the stream. Barry leaned against the wall, looking Owen up and down with a lascivious grin. “Don’t think I won’t come in there to pay you back.”

“Mmm…” Owen rinsed and twisted off the knobs. “Promise?”

Barry rested his square chin on his palm, staring openly as Owen toweled off, grateful he no longer had to clench a fist and swallow his shame when he told the other men to look away, dying to take a peek himself. 

Owen dressed, finding himself in a waking dream. In the year since he arrived, nothing but horror and sadness greeted him each morning as he woke to the unforgiving gray walls. So to be with Barry, tucking against his built chest to read between activities, tingling whenever his big hands found a special way to touch, to tease, smiling so much his soft cheeks hurt, was a phenomenon he never thought possible.

Entering the occupational therapy room, Owen scooped up a sheet of paper and pencil set, and as he took a chair next to Barry, he gnawed on his lip. “Hey Barry, could I, um…” Owen tapped the corner of his page. “Draw you? Maybe?”

Barry pulled his head back with a blink. “You want to draw me?”

“Yeah…” Fingers gracing Barry’s sharp cheekbone with the utmost delicacy of wind rustling through fallen leaves, Owen grinned. “You’re so beautiful, Barry.”

Face teetering and warm, Barry tried to drive his smile to ground, but it proved hopeless. “Thank you...sure. If you want to…”

It was slightly odd, Owen glancing up at him every few seconds with focused intensity as his hand danced over the paper, but he didn’t ask Barry to do anything, simply captured him as he colored, so he didn’t mind and did what he could to let his self-consciousness go.

Hour coming to an end, Owen sighed, sliding the drawing over. “Well, it’s...here.”

Barry held up the image. As he took in the sight of himself, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his chest flooded with a sorrow that somehow bore a ring of hope. Barry clearly witnessed pain, anger, exhaustion, in the face looking back. But it was Owen’s creation. Someone took the time to commit him to the page. Someone considered him a work of art, when Barry thought himself forgettable, insignificant, and that fact left his throat constricted as he lowered his hand, unable to meet Owen’s eye.

“Thank you.” Barry whispered, head turned and taking Owen’s fingers. “I...I love it.”

Were it not for the dozen other prisoners surrounding them, not to mention the instructor, Owen would’ve claimed Barry’s supple, solemn lips then and there. As it was he leaned forward, stopping himself. “You’re welcome.”

The picture hung in their cell. Each morning as Barry readied himself, he took a moment to look at the rendering, reminding himself as yet another day started in their cage that he was cherished.

***

Weeks progressing, Barry and Owen dug themselves a fresh routine. Though the outline may have been the same, same restrictive building, same activities, their days went from a dingey gray to a riot of jubilant color.

Laughing through meals until Barry’s snorting giggle disturbed the surrounding tables and he apologized with a wave. Hands wandering over one another in the library stacks as they searched for a interesting offering, Owen particularly pleased when Barry would read aloud, cradling him against his tall frame, fingers flowing through the beginnings of Owen’s returning sandy tendrils, the buzz of Barry’s flinty voice through his solid chest endlessly soothing.

Barry swallowed his pills. One after the other. Fog clearing, he didn’t credit the medication, but rather that there was something to look forward to, to live for. But, Barry supposed, perhaps the antidepressants helped a little, too.

And of course their nights of panting, tearing passion. And mornings. Afternoons. Frankly, anytime they could get away with it, considering there wasn’t much else to do in prison. Many instances required hands clamped over mouths and frantic hushes as they raced towards their end, but neither minded, simply glad to have the solace of one another’s arms.

Returning from a check in with his counselor, Barry rounded the corner to their block and froze. Owen stood outside of the cell, weight shifting from side to side, a guard next to him looking in as he said something Barry couldn’t hear. 

Fingers jittering over his thick thigh, Barry approached. Owen’s face caught him, a mask of fear and confusion. “Berkman.” Burly guard emerging from within, he narrowed his eyes. “Want to explain this?” Opening a gloved palm, he bore a handful of small, white pills.

Barry swallowed, cast his eyes hopelessly at Owen and shook his head. “Alright.” Firmly grabbing his arm, the guard tugged Barry away. “Solitary, Berkman. Three days for contraband.”

Looking back over his broad shoulder, Owen’s glassy stare followed him, and the last thing he heard before the guard marched him around the corner was a scared, soft, “Barry?”

***

_ Was I asleep?  _ Barry couldn’t be sure as he blinked. Tiny shaft of light drifting under the door, he thought it might be the end of the second day.  _ Yeah. Yeah, that seems right…  _ Going by the meals, it had to be. Barry wondered if they would let him out after the third night or make him wait until the following morning. He hoped not. His mind...flailed.

Before now, when contemplating solitary in the theoretical, Barry always thought it would be something for which he was well suited. As a man who spent a great deal of time alone, he figured it’d be fine. Not a big deal. He would just sleep. Lounge. Wait it out.

Wrong. Barry underestimated what his brain could do without stimulus. Not a moment passed when it didn’t prompt him with a bevy of anxieties, memories. Within hours a spectre clawed beneath the doorway, joining Barry on the narrow cot, talons clicking up his curled spine. 

What began as whispers in Barry’s joined ear turned to jabs. Then shouts. And finally hateful screeches, unavoidable and dripping with vitriol as Barry’s conscience set out to condemn.

_ Korengal. Chris. Moss. The Monastery. Look at yourself, Berkman. They sent you here because you can’t exist in society. Dangerous. Unstable. You think you’re better than these others? These ‘evil’ men? Because you had a reason? Because they deserved it? Sure, Berkman...whatever helps you sleep at night… _

But with all the monsters invading the cramped room, sleep couldn’t fit inside. Barry sat. Stood. Paced. Masturbating helped. Some. For a few minutes. But it wasn’t as though he could do that constantly, and as much as he tried to distract himself with thoughts of Owen, to reassure, on the third morning, those inklings, originally an adorable, companionable creature, grew fangs of their own.

_ What are you doing to him, Berkman? Don’t you remember his last cell mate? He doesn’t really want it. He’s just so fucking terrified, so traumatized he can’t say ‘no’ to you. And you took advantage of that. Because you’re sick. And desperate. And pathetic. And now you don’t even have those fucking pills laying around to protect Owen from yourself… _

Huge hands smashed into his forehead. Again. And again, hoping to knock this all away, these ghouls that clung to his wan flesh like the blood of his victims. Sticky and hot and never quite able to be clean no matter how many showers he took. 

Face down in the pillow, Barry inhaled. Exhaled. Waiting. Waiting.


	4. 4

Owen didn’t realize Barry returned until his nap was interrupted by the wheeze of bedsprings above him. “Barry?” Hopping up, Owen excitedly grabbed his expansive shoulder. “Barry! You’re back! Are you okay?”

But Barry didn’t turn. Nodding to the wall, he shifted a little. “Yup.”

Owen frowned, arm falling. “Barry...what’s wrong?”

Head shaking, Barry curled up tighter. “Nothing. Just tired.”

“Don’t…” Voice shrinking, Owen tickled his wide back with one finger. “Don’t you want to come sleep down here? With me?”

“I…” Barry stiffened. “Maybe later…”

Owen rested on his heels. “Okay then…” Crawling in bed, Owen gazed at the bunk above, turning his face into the pillow and hoping Barry couldn’t hear his weeping.

The next morning Owen tried engaging Barry, but it was as though stepped back in time, the same absent apparition who entered the prison months before refusing to meet his eye. 

Barry went through the motions. Went along with Owen to breakfast, accompanied him to the shower, but he couldn’t summon the will for much else, hoisting himself back into bed as soon as they finished and facing the wall.

After a dozen ineffective attempts at drawing him out subtly, Owen sighed. “Alright, Barry.” Placing a hand on the bed frame, Owen examined him. “You gotta talk to me. Tell me what’s going on here, because…” Owen shook his head, eyes falling to the floor. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Barry whispered, still and stubborn.

“No…” Voice a well of concern, Owen’s fingers painted over his dark hair. “You’re not. Come on. Tell me. Barry, why…” Owen bit his lip, touch and tone delicate. “Why did you have those pills?”

Somehow Barry’s tall body compressed further, making himself small. “You don’t need to hear about that.” 

“Barry, I...I want to…” Resting his chin on the mattress, Owen rubbed over the gentle curve of Barry’s side. “I care about you. Please. Talk to me.”

Barry turned over reluctantly, like a snowfall refusing to melt in oncoming Spring as he kept his eyes hidden from Owen’s concerned gaze. “I...when I first came here…” Picking at a loose thread on his blanket, Barry’s pink lips hardly moved. “I started...hoarding them.”

“Why?” Owen caressed Barry’s rough cheek, hoping he was wrong about the answer he thought resided behind the beautiful man’s silent mouth.

Shrugging a vast shoulder, Barry tucked his square chin down, a shameful whisper sneaking out, as if he spoke the words quietly, they might not be true. “To take them. I just…” Shutters of his eyes closing, Barry swallowed. “I was so miserable…”

Barry remembered that day. Didn’t want to. Would give anything to carve those images from his mind, purge himself. But he couldn’t. Etched forever on his spirit, Barry would never be able to forget when he got caught.

Sirens sounding in the distance, his big hand shook as he wrote.  _ Fuck, no one’s going to be able to read this… _ Half of Barry thought it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t care. Last words of an evil man. Once they all knew, who would take into account a scribbled apology on the back of a flyer for his last show?  _ No one.  _

But still Barry wrote, frantic to get his thoughts on the page, even though they hardly made sense in his head as tears dotted the paper and he wiped his eyes in trembling frustration, yelling aloud at his own betraying body parts, “Just let me fucking do this!”

Pounding at the door. Blue eyes wide, Barry turned. Scrambling for the gun, he didn’t comprehend the shouts through the wood as he desperately dashed off the final few illegible lines.

Metal over his tongue. Splintering. Cracking.  _ They’re close, Barry. Just fucking do it. Now. Now. Now.  _

Gun jamming. Barry looked down at the weapon in horror as the police burst through. In hindsight, Barry supposed he could’ve lifted his hand, forced theirs, but Barry carried the weight of ending someone. He couldn’t do that to another.  _ No _ ...

“Oh Barry…” Owen jumped up, embracing him and touching a kiss to Barry’s neck. “I’m so sorry. I...I’ve been there, too.” Rubbing circles in his wide back, he nodded. “How are you now?” Leaning back, he examined Barry’s dark blue eyes, holding his anguished face with the delicacy of one cradling finest china. 

Crumpling, Barry shook his head into the pillow. “I don’t know…” A sharp inhale and Barry resented the moisture decorating his cheeks. “I thought I was better. But then solitary, it…” 

Bobbing his head, Owen gathered Barry into his arms, rocking gently. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. It...that place messes with you bad.” 

Owen planted a kiss on his forehead and Barry looked up at him, gaze red rimmed and sniffing. “You’ve had to go before?”

“Yeah. Well…” Tilting his head, Owen sighed. “To be fair, I got in trouble on purpose. To get away from…” Owen swallowed hard, letting his words fall away. “A few times. Spit at a guard. Threw my food. Nothing serious. Just...needed a break, you know. But it…” Grip on Barry tightening, Owen appeared far away for a moment. “It wasn’t much better.”

Barry scanned his harrowed expression, sitting up. Taking Owen’s hand, Barry lifted his collar to wipe his face. “Yeah, um, about that, I…” Shaking his head, Barry plastered something resembling a smile on his face. “I think maybe it’s better if we...stop. That.”

“What?” Emerald eyes indignant, Owen shifted on the bunk. “But...I thought you liked it. Me. I thought we were...good.”

“Um…” Voice tremulous, Barry looked straight up and licked his lips. “I just...I just don’t think it’s fair. To you. I don’t think…” Head falling with a sigh, Barry tapped his knee. “I don’t think you really want this.”

Face reddening in his distress, Owen blinked back the oncoming tears. “That’s...Barry, that’s not true! I do.” Holding Barry’s carved forearm, Owen tried to plead with Barry’s sapphire eyes, but they wouldn’t look back. “I like you. I like what we have.”

“You say that…” Barry shook his head, corner of his mouth ticking up sadly. “But Owen, with...everything. That happened to you. I don’t know if...I just don’t think you can see me clearly.”

Teeth clenching, Owen’s brows gathered like an oncoming storm. “Hey.” Rod of steel beneath his deep voice, he took Barry’s square chin in hand. “First, don’t tell me how I feel. Pretty sure I know a whole hell of a lot better than you do. And I…” Mouth working open and closed in silence for a second, Owen’s nose flared. “Like you. A lot. And second. I do see you, Barry.” Fingers smoothing over his chestnut hair, Owen's expression softened. “I see that you’re kind. And generous. And funny. And beautiful. You make me really happy.” Owen hooked his hand around the back of Barry’s neck, grateful when he didn’t resist as he touched their foreheads together. “Who wouldn’t want to be with someone like that?”

Barry let his fingers fall on Owen’s knee, voice an apprehensive whisper. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Owen grinned, catching Barry’s pink lips.

Smile sneaking up on his chiseled features, Barry nudged Owen with a sharp elbow. “You make me really happy, too.”

“Good.” Ruffling Barry’s dark hair, he gave his scratchy cheek a peck. “Glad that’s settled.” 

***

Owen was extremely grateful for Barry’s return. Not only because he missed him dearly, but because going back to bathing in the sink after weeks of real showers proved almost intolerable. Scraping his skin pink as Barry watched, his expressive eyebrow floating higher and higher up his forehead as he ran his tongue over his teeth within his mouth, Owen couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Barry giggled. “What do you mean? You’re naked. Of course I’m looking.”

Owen flicked a handful of droplets at his face with a pout, Barry wiping them away and smirking.

“Selfish.”

Gravelly voice issuing behind him, Barry turned to find a man inches away, hulking and furious. “Uh...what?” He leaned, trying to glance over the peak of Barry’s mountainous shoulder, but Barry dodged to the side. “Hey!”

“I said you’re fuckin’ selfish, Berkman.” The man grunted, licking his lips. “Only pussy in the place. Why do you get it?” Shrugging, he tilted his head. “Least you could do is pass it around. Share the wealth.”

Cowering with his back turned, Owen quietly turned the water off, trying to reach for his towel without exposing himself. “Excuse me?” Fire crackling behind his cobalt eyes, Barry’s sharp jawline flashed as he gritted his teeth. “He’s a person. Not an ‘it.’ And he’s not my property. Whoever he wants to be with, that’s his business.” Hands clenching, Barry loomed forward. “And I guarantee it’s not you. So fuck off.”

He held his ground, icy stare penetrating Barry with a sneer. “Come on, Berkman. Be reasonable. What’s it gonna take?” Leaning in conspiratorially, he lowered his voice. “I’ll give you anything you want in commissary. Just let me have fifteen minutes. Come on.”

Knuckles sinking into his cheek, the bone surrendered beneath his fist, man crashing to the ground with a grunt. Barry dove on top of him, sounds of the shower block vanishing, vision narrowing to a pinpoint as he punched. Again. And again. And again.

“ _ Barry!”  _ Screaming and yanking him back by the collar when he couldn’t get his attention, Owen doubled his grip on his towel. “Stop! Enough!” 

For a second, a flash, Owen saw something in Barry that caused an eruption of goosebumps over his tattooed skin which had nothing to do with his state of undress. Eyes a gaping blue volcano of rage, nostrils wide, and rounded teeth a snarl, a beast lurked behind those handsome features before Barry deflated.

Slowly coming to his feet, Barry stared down at the man. Unconscious. Bleeding. And a lurch of nausea swept over him. “I…” Barry swallowed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I just...he...I got so angry…”

Owen hastily pulled on his prison issues, folding his belongings. “Yeah, it’s...yeah. Barry. Go back to our cell. As fast as you can without someone noticing, okay?” Realizing Barry’s daze, Owen patted his stubbled cheek. “Barry? Are you listening to me?”

Blinking, Barry attempted to take him in. “What?”

“Go back. Get in bed. Pretend you’re asleep. I’ll tell them I came in and found him like this. Just…” Owen frowned down at the man. “They might ask why my hair is wet, but...fuck it. Barry, just  _ go!” _

Barry nodded, kissing Owen quickly before he scuttled back, long legs moving a hair under a run and hopping into bed. As Barry waited, mind a tornado, his hand throbbed, though that did nothing to discourage his fidgeting.

Over an hour passed before Owen shuffled into the room, bedraggled as he replaced his shower items in his cubby. “Are you okay?” Barry dropped from the bed, cupping his cheek. “What happened? I’m...fuck, Owen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” Scooping him close, Barry kissed the top of his head, inhaling sharply. Barry held his breath, powerful arms tight around him as he brought his pink lips close to Owen’s ear. “Please don’t be scared of me…”

“Oh Barry, it’s...it’s okay.” Owen squeezed his love handles, pressing a kiss to his

sculpted jaw. “I know you just wanted to protect me. I didn’t expect...that. But...it’s fine. That guy was a piece of shit. I know he’s...well, some of the other guys…” Swallowing, Owen shook his head. “Anyway, he had it coming. Don’t worry about it.”

Barry tucked into his shoulder, continuing to hang on as his words muffled in Owen’s shirt. “Okay…” Lips moving to Owen’s neck, Barry’s cheek chafed his skin lightly. “You know I would never do that, right? No matter what someone offered. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

“I know.” Draping himself over Barry’s broad shoulders, Owen swayed them a little. “You’re a good man, Barry.”

Clinging, Barry took a shuddering breath. “You really think so?”

“Yeah.” Owen’s fingers trickled over Barry’s dark tendrils. Silence passed and Owen shut his eyes, molding himself against Barry’s large frame. Nestling into him, Owen swallowed, hands stilling. “I love you, Barry.”

If possible the circle of Barry’s strong arms grew closer around Owen, compressing his lungs, but he didn’t give a damn as Barry’s flinty voice responded, “I love you, too, Owen.”

Eyes wet, they held each other in the center of the cell, quiet as their hearts beat against one another.

After a few moments, Owen sniffed and leaned away, swiping a hand over his cheek. “They bought it, I think. That I just found him, I mean. Hopefully…” Tensing, Owen sighed. “Hopefully they won’t figure out it was you and it’ll be fine.”

“Well…” Barry shrugged his vast shoulders, pulling a face. “To be honest, if they did...what’s going to happen? I already got life without parole.” Tilting his head, Barry half smiled. “Not like they can make it any worse.”

Chuckling, Owen played with the curls at the base of Barry’s neck. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.” Owen traced a finger over Barry’s prominent eyebrow, his sharp cheekbone. “Guess we’ll have a lot of time together…”

Barry smirked. “Yeah, guess so.” Leaning against Owen’s forehead, Barry’s expression faltered. “I know it’s...maybe it’s silly to think about now, but...it’s going to be hard. When you get out. In twenty.”

“Aw.” Waving a dismissive hand, Owen smiled. “I’ll just shank one of those assholes from the Aryan Brotherhood. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Berkman.”

Barry giggled, grabbing a handful of Owen’s ass as he captured his lips. Walking them backward to the bunk, Barry opened one eye toward the entrance before he worked Owen’s pants down, Owen kicking free before they fell in together. 

Fingers slipping between his thighs, Barry twirled over Owen’s clit until his fingers shone with the evidence of his desire, descending his body and pausing below his navel. “Keep a look out.”

Owen chuckled. “I don’t know how you expect me to pay attention to anything while you’re down there, but I’ll do my best.”

Mischievous smile blooming over his wide mouth, Barry’s tongue struck out, licking over Owen with a dark eyebrow raised. “Oh, so you’re saying I’m distracting?”

“Not that I mind…” Smiling, Owen petted over Barry’s head and he giggled. Crisp jaw burrowing forward, Barry lapped vigorously, Owen’s thighs squeezing his joined ears as his spine arched. “Oh fuck... _ Barry, yes! Fuck! _ ” Rough cheeks rubbing him raw, Barry devoured Owen’s sopping pussy with fervency until he dripped down his chin and tugged at his dark locks. Frantically snatching a pillow to cover his face, Owen smothered his shrieks, rutting into Barry’s carved features as he sucked ruthlessly on his engorged clit. “ _ Barry! Fuck! Yes! Just like that!” _

Owen shook violently beneath him, Barry grinding his pleading cock against the sheets to appease himself as he inserted two lengthy fingers into his depths. Massaging his g-spot with dexterous skill, Barry used the tip of his patrician nose to tickle the stem of Owen’s clit as he devoured, relishing the way Owen would go breathless and silent, his heels jittering over his wide back as he tore at Barry’s hair with such ferocity he was certain baldness would arrive before he hit the ten year mark.

“ _ Barry! Barry! Fuck! Fuck!” _ Eyes going white, Owen seized, limbs rattling as he cinched around Barry’s fingers, pulsating heat electrifying his skin as Barry’s ministrations wound down and he emerged, wiping his face and leaving a crooked, goofy grin behind.

“Damn…” Barry kissed Owen’s hip before he climbed up. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”

With a breathy chuckle, Owen took Barry’s face in both hands. “Lucky me.” 

Shrugging down his pants and briefs, Barry entered Owen with a high gasp. “Fuck…” Hips rolling, Barry bit his lip, nodding exuberantly. “Fuck, you feel so good…”

“Yes…” Owen rose to meet his every stroke, summoning Barry close. “ _ Fuck me! _ I love your cock, Barry. You feel so damn good.”

Arm wedging between them to spin over his clit, Barry swiveled inside, massive cock hitting Owen with exquisite accuracy as he flicked his pelvis and drove deep. They developed a cadence that, though they were still exploring, still learning the terrain of one another’s flesh, what touches led to hitched breath and where to find a halted gasp, would prove to be the rhythm that carried the two of them through life as their bodies continually joined.

Immediacy of his lust demanding, Barry hammered forward as Owen constricted around him, cradling his head into the canopy of his vast shoulder. “ _ Fuck! Owen, I love you! Yes! Fuck!” _

“ _ Barry!”  _ Owen cried, limbs closing around him. “ _ Yes! I love you! Fuck me! Don’t stop!” _

Knees drawing up, Barry slithered his python arms beneath Owen, coiling them together unbreakably as he frenetically humped. Pink lips huffing at Owen’s ear as they became a writhing ball of need, Barry’s lungs held merely enough breath to whisper, _ “I love you...I love you...I love you…” _

“ _ I love you, Barry!”  _ Mouth shoved into his stubbled neck, Owen squeezed around Barry again, quivering and tearing at his shirt as Barry froze with a wavering whimper. Hips stammering forth, Barry whined his way over Owen’s name again and again, hot cum draining inside of him as their bodies rocked down to a peaceable wave.

Barry claimed Owen's mouth for a languorous kiss before rolling away, seeking air. Snapping up his clothes from the floor, Owen dressed, retrieving a book from his cubby before he returned to a sated Barry in bed. “Here…” Owen motioned for him to move. “I found a book I think you’ll like…”

Opening  _ East of Eden,  _ Barry snuggled against him, Owen’s molasses voice surrounding his wounded spirit as he closed his eyes. Steinbeck's descriptions of the California scenery guided him into dreams filled with Owen, laughing vacations spent among rolling green hills and baking summer sun, Barry finally free within his own mind, if nowhere else.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment or come say hi on tumblr at fandomtransmandom. I also accept requests!


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